


My Favorite Maybe

by beware_of_fangirling



Series: Destiel One-shots [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Trigger Warning for mentions of past suicide, until it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beware_of_fangirling/pseuds/beware_of_fangirling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean deals with the aftermath of Castiel's suicide.</p><p>(This is a continuation of my previous one-shot "Pain" but can be read as a stand-alone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Favorite Maybe

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556464) by [beware_of_fangirling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beware_of_fangirling/pseuds/beware_of_fangirling). 



Warm sunlight filtered in through the kitchen windows, filling the room with a soft golden hue. Birds chirped outside in perfect harmony. Their airy tune danced across the breeze and through the thin branches of dogwood trees. It was the beginning of spring, and the flowers were just beginning to bloom. They stretched their petals upwards, reaching to the sky until they could almost touch the sun.

Dean's favorite tree had always been the cherry blossom. The vibrant pink colors and soft leaves made it one of the most beautiful works of nature he had been lucky to come across. One night, sitting gout on Bobby's porch with a case of beers and the stars, Cas had asked Dean why he chose to love the cherry blossoms so much if they were so fleeting. He had looked the former angel straight in his eyes, eyes that shone brighter than the constellations above them, and told him that the evanescence of the beautiful flowers did not scare him, but merely made him want to savor the beauty even more.

Dean had felt the smaller man catch his breath, his chest stilling against Dean's own from the sheer intensity of his gaze. It was only then that Dean realized they had been inching closer to each other across the porch swing all night. His gaze had darted down to Cas' lips, lips that were only a few mere inches away from his, then back up to his eyes like oceans. 

Looking back, Dean couldn't imagine where he would be then if he had only kissed Castiel that night.

Two toned arms sliding around his waist from behind pulled Dean gently out of his musings and memories. He leaned his bare back against an equally bare chest, melting into the familiar warmth and comforting scent. "Hey," he muttered quietly.

"Morning." Cas' voice was always gruff, but even more so in the mornings. He had developed the habit of sleeping in later than Dean ever since his nightmares went away. 

Dean wasn't complaining; it meant he had the chance to watch his lover sleeping in the mornings, when his face was slack and calm, his brow free from any crease. Sometimes he would mutter fragmented phrases, his pale lips halfheartedly forming the syllables. If Dean woke up at just the right time, the morning sun would be filtering perfectly through their bedroom window, turning the angel golden, casting around him more of a halo than he ever had before.

"There's coffee in the pot. The eggs should be ready soon," Dean instructed gently. 

Castiel didn't move, but instead tightened his hold on the taller hunter gently. He pressed his forehead against Dean's tanned neck, which was warm from the summer air filtering into their small cabin through the open windows. Finally, Cas pulled away and went to fix them both mugs of coffee and plates of eggs as soon as Dean was ready to take them off the stove.

They sat down together at their wooden table. Bright pink flowers sat in a ceramic vase as the centerpiece and wind-chimes tinkled gently from outside. Dean studied the weather carefully as they ate in companionable silence. It looked like a clear night was headed their way, perfect for sitting out on the porch to watch the sunset or maybe toasting marshmallows in their fire-pit.

If anyone had told Dean six years ago he would be living in a log cabin with wind-chimes and a fire-pit, sharing a bed with his husband each night and waking up early to watch him sleep, he probably would have punched you and walked away laughing.

Now, he couldn't imagine a happier life. He, Cas and Sammy had managed to get out of the hunting business almost a year ago. The minute they were out for good, Dean was down on one knee and asking Cas to marry him. By the end of the same day, they were standing in front of the Impala with Sam officiating, and Dean couldn't have planned anything better. They had moved out to the woods after the impromptu wedding and settled down in a three-room cabin built by the three Winchesters themselves. It was small, but much nicer than anything they had before. 

Their cabin was cozy, and brightly decorated with flowers and artwork, courtesy of Cas, who had found his talent for watercolors shortly after their moving in. Dean had built the stone fire-pit out back and their porch swing himself, and they spent most evenings by one of the two. And at night, they went to bed together, though not always to sleep. The honeymoon phase never ended.

They cleared the table together after eating, washing and drying like a well-oiled machine. The years of hunting and living together had harmonized them into perfect synchronization with each other's movements, thoughts, and even heart rate.

After the cleaning was done, Dean threw on a shirt and shorts and headed out on his daily jog, while Cas retired to the open studio Dean had built onto the house for him. Dean jogged through the woods at an easy pace, letting himself get lost in the rhythm of his feet against the ground and the air flowing in and out of his lungs. He gazed at the familiar scenery contently, feeling more free than he could ever remember feeling before he married Cas. It had taken a couple months, but he had even stopped carrying a gun and knife with him everywhere he went. That wasn't to say there wasn't still one of each in the bedside drawer.

Dean jogged down his self-made path to the near-by town. It was a quaint place, with a minimal population and a close-knit community. A few of the pedestrians waved hello to him as he passed. Dean had taken up a small construction job on week-days for a local company, and had gotten to know many of the town's people from that and going to the farmer's market each Sunday with Cas. He smiled kindly at Mrs. Anderson, the librarian; waved at Kelly Burns, the little league coach; gave a high-five to one of the middle school kids who came to help at the site sometimes. 

At the post office, Dean picked up a letter from Sam and made small talk with the workers. Soon enough, he was heading back home. He dropped Sam's letter on the kitchen counter and went directly to Cas' studio. His husband had his back to the door, working intently on his latest painting. Dean stopped to watch him from the doorway, his delicate and precise fingers dancing the brush across the canvas, the small squint in his eyes as he focused on the work.

Dean pushed away from the door-frame and waltzed up behind his angel. He wrapped his arms over Cas' shoulders, dipping his head down to press gentle butterfly kisses against the brunet's neck. Cas only smiled and leaned into the touch.

"What'cha working on?" Dean murmured hotly.

Cas sighed, "Just something I had to express."

Dean studied the painting carefully. Swirls of black and grey covered most of the canvas, forming hazy figures with dull red eyes. Near the center of the canvas, but slightly up and to the right, was an explosion of pure white laced with silvery undertones as Dean tilted his head.

"Hell." It was more of a statement than a question.

Cas nodded anyway. His fingers reached out and touched the dry wet paint gently. "You were so beautiful." He craned his neck and studied Dean's profile with a soft smile. "You still are."

Dean pressed his blushing smile into Cas' lips gently, quickly, just a chaste little something before he pulled away. "I have to go take a shower. Join me?"

Castiel smiled and let Dean lead him by the hand back to the main house.

|D|O|S|

Just as Dean had predicted, it was a perfectly clear night, the air warm enough that they weren't freezing but with just enough of a nip to justify the two husbands curling up together under a blanket Sam's fiance, Andrea, had made for them. Each of them held a mug of cooling hot chocolate. They could work off the calories later.

"The cherry blossoms are blooming," Castiel pointed out in a soft voice, looking over at Dean as they swung gently back and forth on the porch swing.

Dean looked back at him, holding his electric blue gaze easily. "Guess I'll have to savor it."

The angel's breath caught again at the intensity in Dean's jade stare, full to the brim with love. This time, Dean kissed him.

|D|O|S|

"Dean? Dean, wake up."

Dean opened his eyes groggily, squinting against the harsh light coming in through grimy motel windows and the sharp bite of too-cold air. Sam stood above him, already half-dressed as he shook his older brother's shoulder. "What?"

"Come on, we need to get going," Sam urged, tossing a pair of jeans and a flannel onto the bed.

Dean looked around the room, which was notably devoid of a certain angel. He opened his mouth to ask where his husband had gone, along with their warm cabin and golden sun, before it all came back in a wave of grief and regret.

_"I just wanted the pain to end."_

_"911, what is your emergency?"_

_"We're losing him!"_

_"I am very sorry, Mr. Winchester. We did all we could."_

Oh yeah, right. He was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually pretty happy with how this turned out. I know it may not be what you expected, for those of you who requested a second part to "Pain", but I hope you liked it!
> 
> Up Next: Love Wars: Balthazar Strikes Back


End file.
